Broken Angel
by Katt-itonic
Summary: TRIGGER WARNING. Short story about Angel, a woman who was a great student, friend, and employee. Average in everything. Excelling in nothing, failing inside. She had friends, but no best friends. She had romances, but no serious relationships. By thirty she was finished with trying to become someone. But she did become memorable to one person. Trigger warning: suicide.


"Another shot" Angel called, pushing her empty shot glass across the counter. The bartender took his time, making a couple of appletinis for the men sitting at the other end of the bar. He then let his gaze sweep down toward her, his eye's begging her to have forgotten what she had asked; but she hadn't. Angel tapped the counter beside her shot glass.

Angel didn't know the bartender's name, and she had no desire to know. He had made several attempts at speaking with her, asking about her day the way a bartender would. He had started to sound automated.

"Still don't wanna talk about it eh?" He said as he took the tequila off the back shelf, filling up her glass and setting a second beside it to fill it as well.

"No thanks" She said with a shake of her head. She took the glass and he took the other, raising it with her. She paused, watching him take the shot.

"Bar's closing in half an hour" He explained with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Keep the rest" Angel said, taking her last shot and dropping a hundred dollar bill on counter to cover her fifty dollar tab.

"Than- Hey this is too much" He called after her, waving the bill.

"I said keep it" Angel barked before leaving through the back door.

It was dark out, past midnight. She wore a jean jacket, pulling up her collar to shield her neck from the cold wind that swept her chocolate curls to one side. She didn't bother to fix it, she was busy focusing on her stride; quick but straight. Somewhat.

She felt the golden liquid calming her from the bottom of her stomach. The little voice in her head begged for it to reach her brain quicker. Five shots should have been enough. Angel could see the bridge ahead. No cars tonight, not even a taxi.

She paused it's center and moved to the side, looking down at the street below. She had googled it; there were no exact heights for the fall but she did find articles about others that had taken the flight. The end result wasn't survival.

She took hold of the steel bared fence. It was freezing to the touch and sent chills up her arms. Angel hated the way it felt, the way feeling felt. She stepped up onto the lowest bar and leaned over the edge. It was the easiest way, no turning back, no survival rates.

She threw her right leg over and then her left. sitting on the fence, her leg's naturally hooking over the second bar to hold her in place. The tiny voice in her head reminding her that her body wished to live, that it was healthy and strong.

"Miss?" A voice came. Angel whipped her around to see the bartender.

"What..." Angel struggled to find her words "You...You followed me?"

"I live down this street" He admitted.

There was a pause. Angel looked down the street below when a taxi passed underneath her.

"You, uh, you wanna talk about it?" The bartender said. His words were softer than before, his voice was shaking.

"Do you?" Angel hissed in reply, she wouldn't look at him.

"I do" He said, his hand grasping her shoulder "Just for a minute"

"Fine, if it will help you sleep tonight" Angel didn't want the man to suffer because of her. She was there to end suffering, not share it.

"Why do you want to do this?" He asked.

"I'm tired, just very tired" She sighed "I'm tired of this game"

"This game?"

"Life, man, life is a game. Some people do well or even thrive, others..." Angel felt her innards tighten "Sometimes you need to hit reset"

"What if you just get a game over?"

"Then there's nothing and nothing is a lot better than being in the negatives"

"So this is because of debt?"

"No, I have enough in the bank to pay my rent" Angel gave a small chuckle "Well at least for now. Once I go it all gets sent to Orphanage downtown"

"Were you an orphan?" He asked.

"No" Angel shook her head "I just had a temp job working at their school for a while, they could use the money"

"Then why are you here?"

"I'm a nobody" She replied "I'm a drifter"

"My parents have passed of old age, I am an only child, I have never found love nor trusted anyone enough for it, and god help me I've tried, I make enough to pay rent but not enough to adopt a child, I am too much and not enough" Angel closed her eyes "I have poured so much energy into life and I have nothing to show for it. I'm going to be thirty tomorrow. All my friends turned out to be acquaintances, friendly only until they had to move on. I have tried every hobby and lived in so many different places. I'll never settle. Not while my heart still beats"

"Would you say you lived a good life?" He asked. The question made her brain whirr with memories. But her skin pricked, cold as ice.

"No"

Angel saw him that night from above. He didn't phone the police. He walked home. He snuck into his daughter's rooms and kissed them both goodnight even though they were already asleep. Then he walked into his own bedroom and sat on the edge of his wife's bedside. As he did, she woke. His face was filled with horror, his hands shaking in his lap.

"Sweetheart" She cooed. He softly fell to her side, facing away from her. She brushed her fingers through his hair and kissed his shoulder.

"Another one" He mumbled. She nodded her head against his back, her arms wrapping around him in a hardened embrace.

"I love you" She said "Your children love you"

"She had nothing wrong" He sighed "No lost job, no lost loved one, not even a bad childhood"

"Some people" His wife said softly "Are simply lost, right from their beginning"

Some people drift through life. They aren't "going with the flow" nor are they sinking, getting hit by the waves. They drift, lost and helpless. They grasp at every object and person they can but cannot hold on. Sometimes they keep going, or someone grabs them. But the others...

Life cannot be survived. Life is meant to be lived. Drifters rarely ever _survive._


End file.
